


Mi Única Patria

by nonpuellamagi



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Blood and Violence, Everyone else are pirates, How Do I Tag, I don't think it's enough to warrant a graphic warning but just to be safe, M/M, Mer!Lance, Mild Sexual Content, Misunderstandings, Multi, Past Abuse, Past Sexual Abuse, Sendak more like Sendick, Some of these tags don't come into play for several chapters so idk here they are, Tags to be added, Trans Lance (Voltron), it doesn't Say outright that he's trans but he is, why isn't that a tag yet
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-29
Updated: 2018-01-16
Packaged: 2019-02-23 07:39:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 5
Words: 12,417
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13185417
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nonpuellamagi/pseuds/nonpuellamagi
Summary: Lance has never been like the other merfolk; too weak, too slow, forced to live on his own so he wouldn't have to endure how they treated him. It was the only way he could survive. But when his isolation leads to his capture by pirates, byhumanpirates, Lance begins to wonder if he was never meant to survive at all.Title is fromLa Canción del Pirataby José de Espronceda.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! So, this is the first multi-chapter fic I've posted (or attempted to) in... a looooong time. So, uh, no promises. I'm hoping it'll be good? Comments are very very welcome, especially any tips you may have on pacing and dialogue. Thanks in advance, and I hope you enjoy!
> 
> ALSO: The "Misunderstandings" tag is pretty heavily in play for the first several chapters. Since this is from Lance's point of view, some characters (cough Keith and Shiro cough) may seem really OOC for a while. Just bear with me, all will be explained in time!
> 
> Come scream about Voltron with me on my [Tumblr](http://sugar-and-spite.tumblr.com/)!

Lance hated the dark.

 

It was  _ manageable, _ sure, merfolk were efficient hunters--and that included the ability to hunt at night. He could pick out every frond of every piece of seaweed as he hurtled past, every shell snuggled into the sandy seabed, and every tiny fish, too small to eat, that flew past him. But just because he  _ could _ hunt at night didn't mean that he  _ liked _ to. He missed sunlight, he lamented to himself. He missed the warmth and the shifting patterns of light on the sand and the--

 

The fish. One darted right by his nose, and Lance almost missed it, so wrapped up in his own self-pity. He cursed and dove after it, grinning victoriously when his claws sank into its scales. It struggled in vain for a brief moment, before Lance finally killed it with a swift bite to its neck.

 

Lance hummed thoughtfully as he started in on his meal, looking around. The area was slowly becoming familiar to him, now that he'd had a few months to grow accustomed to it. And though he missed hunting in the sunlight, he definitely didn't miss the company of the other merfolk. He tore a bit of the fish off with his teeth, perhaps a bit more viciously than necessary, at the thought. He'd been here for a few months now, leaving no trace of his presence, sleeping during the day and hunting at night so as to avoid all other merfolk. It wasn't exactly the life he'd wanted… but at least he was alive.

 

As he finished with the fish, Lance tapped his chin thoughtfully, examining the surrounding area. It was still a bit early for him to settle down and sleep, but maybe--if he was careful--he could wake up early, before the sun went down, and spend some time out in the light. He clenched one hand into a fist, claws digging into his palm. It was risky. If the other merfolk found him, they'd show him no mercy.

 

But--but Lance missed the sun.

 

Mind made up, Lance flicked his tail and swam off again, this time heading for a little alcove in the rocks up ahead. It wasn't particularly comfortable, but it would shelter him well enough through the morning; and so, half-burying himself in the sand so he wouldn't float away, Lance drifted off to sleep.

 

~*~

 

He awoke lazily, the warm currents stirring his gills and causing his fins to perk up in interest. Groggily, he cracked open one eye--and promptly squeezed it shut again, the sudden light too bright for his night-adjusted eyes. But as soon as he dared, he opened his eyes once more, pushing himself up from where he'd slept and shaking off the mud that clung to his scales. He felt giddy, staring out through the sun-lit water. It was such a risk, being up so early when he couldn't hide in the shadows--but it was so worth it, to see sunlight again.

 

He darted out from his little alcove, doing twirls and flips and letting out little whoops of sheer joy. Then he paused for a moment, tail curling up and around itself, and just  _ breathed, _ reveling in the warm water flowing over his gills. “I needed this,” he announced to a crab that was perched on a nearby rock. It just clicked its claws indignantly at him and scuttled away, but it did nothing to dampen his mood.

 

With another elated cry, Lance shot forward again, slicing through the water with a speed he hadn't felt like reaching in--years, really. Because he may be alone now, but he was  _ free, _ and that was worth any price he had to pay.

 

Something glittering on the seafloor caught his attention, and Lance slowed down, circling lazily around it once before finally floating to a halt. It was… some human thing, probably, wedged into the sand. It looked sharp around the edges, jagged like it had been broken. It was a creamy white color, with swirls of red interspersed through it here and there. Maybe it had been part of a--a vase, Lance thought the word was? Curiously, he reached for it--

 

The sound of something dragging on the seafloor caught his attention; startled, he looked up over his shoulder, and his eyes widened when he saw a  _ huge net _ trailing towards him. Its ropes seemed too widely spaced to catch any fish, but--his breath caught as he realized it was intended for  _ merfolk. _ With a distressed shout, Lance threw himself in the opposite direction, angling upwards, hoping that if he just swam fast enough, he could avoid it--

 

But the net closed around his outstretched hands and jerked up towards the surface, the bottom of it catching on Lance's back. He thrashed and pulled against it, frantic, but it wouldn't budge, nor could he slip through the openings. He made an upset sort of trilling noise and tried again, harder. There  _ had _ to be a way--

 

The net breached the surface of the water, and Lance gasped in a lungful of air,  _ real air, _ as he clutched at the net. Fear pulled at his stomach when he realized the net was being pulled towards a  _ human ship. _ No, no, no, he was not going to die now! He started desperately clawing and biting at the ropes. One of them had to fray or snap eventually, if he just kept  _ trying... _

 

He was level with the ship now. There was a loud click, and Lance froze, his jaws still locked around one of the ropes. “Don't move,” said an unfamiliar voice.

 

Lance looked towards the source of the sound, his eyes widening when he saw a human staring straight at him, holding a--a  _ gun. _ Lance remembered learning about them, remembered seeing merfolk come back from the shores surrounded in halos of blood and shrieking in pain, and his lip trembled as he slowly withdrew his teeth from the net. The human smiled, though it was anything but friendly. “Keith, Hunk, bring it in,” he ordered, without looking away from Lance.

 

The net was swung over the deck of the ship, and Lance was unceremoniously dumped onto the wood. Instantly there were hands on him, cuffing his wrists behind his back, and people talking--

 

“I can't believe we really got one.”

 

“Holy shit, its tail is  _ huge. _ ”

 

“Look at its coloration, I've never seen one like--”

 

The hands on his wrists pulled away. In a moment of desperation, Lance squeezed his eyes shut, willing his tail to melt away. He felt it as the shift happened, his lower half turning to legs--scaly, finned, web-footed legs, but still legs. He got them under himself and launched forward, hearing shouts of surprise from the humans.

 

“Holy  _ shit! _ ”

 

But Lance wasn't fast enough. One of them stepped in front of him, and Lance tried to slow himself to avoid running into them, but only managed to collapse to the ship's deck again. The human--pale with dark hair and dark eyes--gave a condescending smirk and grabbed him by the arm. Lance tried to pull away, but the human's grip was too strong; “Pathetic,” said the human, watching him struggle. Lance hissed, but it only made the human laugh.

 

“Alright, Keith, enough,” said the first human, the one with the gun, and the one Lance had run into (Keith, he realized) backed off. The first one grabbed Lance's chin and forcefully turned him so they were face-to-face; Lance flinched when he saw how close he was to the scar on the man's face, and the shocking white hair on his head.

 

“Listen up,” the human said. “I'm Shiro, the captain of this ship. I've got some questions for you, and you're going to answer them, or we'll dispose of you and find ourselves a more cooperative mermaid.”

 

The way the human said  _ dispose of you _ had Lance terrified, his whole body shaking. But the first thing out of his mouth was--”Merman.”

 

“A more cooperative mer _ man, _ ” Shiro corrected. “Regardless, you'll tell us what you know if you want to live.” He dropped Lance's chin, but he didn't pull away, still studying him closely. “What tribe are you from?”

 

Lance frowned. “I don't have a tribe. I'm a rogue.”

 

Shiro’s expression soured. “What tribe were you from  _ originally? _ ” When Lance stayed resolutely silent, he continued, “Was it Lotor’s?”

 

Lance gathered all his courage and spat directly in the human's face.

 

“Ugh!” Shiro exclaimed, wiping a hand over his face in disgust. “Fine. We'll see if some time in a cell changes your attitude. Keith.”

 

Keith stepped forward instantly, standing behind Lance to grab his arms and drag him to his feet. Lance growled and struggled as he was forced to move towards the stairs leading belowdecks. Even well after he realized it was pointless, he refused to stop fighting, refused to show a moment of weakness to these humans.

 

Once below, he was tossed face-first into a cell, the door being slammed shut behind him. Unsteady on his feet, he stumbled and fell, banging his head against the opposite wall, but he didn't let it deter him. Within a second he was back on his feet, turning and lunging at the bars with his teeth bared and fins flared as he hissed furiously.

 

The human, Keith, just stood there looking back at him, completely unaffected. “You're lucky we're letting you live,” he said nonchalantly. He spoke condescendingly, the way merfolk often talked to fish, who couldn't understand them. As if Lance was somehow lesser. His fins flared angrily. “I warned Shiro you merfolk would be more trouble than you're worth,” Keith continued, as if he hadn't even reacted.

 

Lance bristled. “I'm  _ nothing _ like other merfolk,” he spat indignantly.

 

Keith raised an eyebrow, looking him up and down. “You're _ exactly _ like other merfolk,” he retorted.

 

Lance paused, sheathing his fangs and letting his fins relax. Keith was right--he was acting exactly like any other mer would. Bite first, ask questions later. He felt bile rise in his throat as he backed away from the door and sat heavily on the flimsy cot that sat on the side of the cell. If he was going to die here, he at least didn't want to die like one of  _ them. _

 

“Finally realizing you have no choice but to help us?” Keith drawled.

 

“No,” Lance snapped. Much as he might hate the other merfolk, betraying them would lead to his death--and it would not be a pleasant one. At least the humans would probably kill him quickly.

 

Keith scoffed. “You creatures are so stubborn.”

 

“We're not  _ creatures, _ ” Lance hissed, “we're  _ people. _ I have a name, you know.”

 

Keith raised an eyebrow. “Well, what is it?”

 

Lance blinked, unsure if he was being serious. Then, hesitantly, he said, “Lance. My name is Lance.”

 

“Lance,” Keith repeated, humming in consideration. “Well,  _ Lance, _ ” he sneered in a tone that made Lance shy back, “there's only two ways this can end. You'd better decide which way it's gonna be.” And with that, Keith turned and left, and Lance was alone, scared and shaking in his cell.

 

He had a feeling this wouldn't end well for him, no matter what he decided.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A not-entirely-unexpected injury causes Lance to meet more of the crew, and in doing so, he learns that humans aren't quite as black-and-white as he thought--and he learns something else that shocks him to his core.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Slight warning in this chapter for: descriptions of injuries, minor transphobia (unintentional; ignorance more than malice).**
> 
>  
> 
> I'm absolutely overwhelmed by the incredible response I've gotten from the first chapter of this! I, uh. I'm not sure how often I'll be able to update. This quickly is probably going to be an anomaly, since in a few days I'm going back to working most days (retail, ugh). But also as of writing this, I have 4 chapters done, so I at least have a bit of a buffer? We'll see how it goes.
> 
> Come yell about Voltron with me on [Tumblr](http://sugar-and-spite.tumblr.com/)!

Lance slept fitfully that night.

 

No one else had come to visit him, though he'd seen the humans occasionally passing by, not trying to hide their prolonged stares. He'd huddled into the thin cot mattress, trying to ignore them, and ignore the pain where his wrists were bound. But as the hours wore on, it became harder and harder to dismiss, until it felt like his wrists were being held in an open flame. The scales there were being rubbed raw; he'd be surprised if none had fallen out yet. And while any other merman’s scales would be relatively unharmed… Lance's were delicate.

 

So he tossed and turned all night, whimpering and crying out occasionally when he accidentally put pressure on his wrists. And when the sun rose, so did Lance, turning to find the cot covered in shed scales and rusty streaks of blood.

 

Lance whimpered nervously at the sight, just as a human happened to walk by--the big, dark-skinned one. Lance took a hesitant step back, but the human wasn't even looking at him, instead staring wide-eyed at the bloodied bed. “Shit,” he intoned, “is that blood?” He finally looked up at Lance, stepping towards the cell. “Are you hurt?”

 

Hesitantly, Lance nodded, though his shoulders were tense. “M-my wrists,” he said, coughing at the dryness in his throat. “I lost some scales…”

 

“Shit,” the human repeated. “Okay, okay, uh, let me get Shiro--” he paused, frowning, as Lance visibly flinched--”or, or Coran, Coran would know what to do,” he finished, sounding uncertain. “I'm gonna get you help, okay?”

 

Lance took a hesitant step forward, not sure if he should believe what the human was saying, but… for some reason, Lance trusted this one. “Okay,” he said finally. “I… Thank you.”

 

“I'm Hunk,” said the human.

 

“Lance,” Lance replied.

 

“Cool,” Hunk said. “I'll be, uh. Right back.” And he turned and hurried off, back the way he came, presumably to where the crew slept.

 

Lance counted the time passing by his heartbeat, the pulse sounding like waves in his ears as he tried to ignore the pain. A minute passed, and he shuffled nervously. Two, and he went up to the bars of the cell and peered out. Was Hunk coming back…?

 

He shrank back when he heard voices approaching him.

 

“--and it looked really bad, Coran, there were scales and blood everywhere, I didn't realize its scales could get hurt like that--”

 

“I warned Shiro it was a possibility,” a heavily accented voice replied. “The females of the species have much more delicate scales, but even the males can lose them occasionally.” Lance's fins flared indignantly at the use of the word  _ female. _ “You were right to come to me, my boy. I'll see what I can do for our guest.”

 

The humans rounded the corner, Hunk trailing behind an older man with an honestly absurd amount of bright orange hair--Coran, Lance assumed. The orange-haired man stepped up to the cell bars with a smile, and Lance held his ground, standing just out of reach. He noticed the human was carrying some random assortment of things in his arms, and though he couldn't tell what any of them were for, he doubted they were good. “I don't believe we've been properly introduced,” said the human, sticking a hand through the bars--precariously shifting his cargo onto one arm to do so. “I'm Coran, the doctor on this ship.”

 

A doctor? Lance sneered. What did they think a human doctor could do for him? “I'm Lance,” he replied dryly. “Forgive me if I don't shake your hand. Bit tied up at the moment.”

 

“Ah, right.” Coran’s hand withdrew. “Well, Lance, I'm going to be honest with you. We're obviously not… terribly well acquainted with merfolk here,” he began apologetically. Lance snorted; Coran ignored him and continued, “But I assure you we didn't intend to cause you harm.”

 

Lance rolled his eyes. “Right. So your captain held me at gunpoint and threatened my life for… what, fun?”

 

Coran sighed. “Whatever quarrel Shiro has with you is not my concern, lass.”

 

Lance's fins flared. “I'm  _ not _ a female.”

 

Coran raised an eyebrow. “But your scales--”

 

“I am defined by more than my body,” Lance hissed through his teeth.

 

“Hm.” Coran shrugged. “Right then. Sorry, lad--is lad alright?”

 

“Fine,” Lance acquiesced, letting his fins relax somewhat.

 

“Very well. Well, as I've said,  _ Shiro _ may be willing to harm you to get what he wants, but  _ I _ mean you no harm. And if you'll let me, I'd like to get those chains off you and see what I can do for your scales.”

 

Lance frowned, suspicious. “Why should I believe you? You humans have done nothing but hurt me since you dragged me from my home.” Not that the little alcove he'd been sleeping under was anything close to a  _ home, _ but the sea in a broader sense was.

 

Hunk frowned, and whispered something to Coran--apparently not realizing Lance could hear him perfectly. “Wait, wait, I thought Shiro said merfolk were like animals. But this one kinda seems like a person. Like a weird, scaly person, but still a  _ person. _ ”

 

Coran rolled his eyes, answering in a normal voice. “That's another area where Shiro and I disagree; and, he can hear you, Hunk.”

 

Hunk’s face paled, and he looked at Lance, seeming mortified. “Oh, shit, I'm sorry, I--”

 

“It's fine,” Lance interrupted. “You humans have done nothing to make me expect courtesy from you, don't pretend to care about my feelings now.”

 

Hunk looked stricken. “I didn't realize,” he said, clearly upset. “I'm--we're not  _ monsters _ \--” He broke off when Lance flinched visibly at the word  _ monster, _ and fell silent.

 

Lance glanced at the ruined bed, and then glared accusingly at Hunk. “Which of us is the monster here?”

 

“Don't let it twist what's happening here.” The new voice made Lance hiss in surprise and shrink back from the bars, watching warily as Keith joined the humans outside the cell, leaning back against the opposite wall. “Merfolk are tricky bastards, but in the end they're all killers. It deserves this.”

 

“Keith,” Coran greeted stiffly. “Regardless, this unnecessary pain the bindings are causing is nothing short of inhumane. I'm going in there to help him.”

 

“W-won't he hurt you?” Hunk stammered, uncertain.

 

“ _ It _ will sit still and let you take care of it, because  _ it _ is smart enough to know that harming us when we try to help will get it nowhere,” Keith said sharply, looking at Hunk and Coran. Then he glanced coldly at Lance, who hissed again, fins flaring in warning. “Or it should be, anyway,” he added dismissively.

 

Lance pulled in his fins and sheathed his fangs, very pointedly looking at Coran and not at Keith. “I won't hurt you,” he promised, “because I don't think you want to hurt  _ me. _ ” He paused, casting scathing glances at the other two humans. “But if anyone else comes near me, I will defend myself,” he growled.

 

“Oh, there's no need for that,” Coran said, unlocking the cell with a key. Lance instinctively stepped back as the human approached him, and Coran raised an eyebrow, dropping his various things on the floor. “Do you want my help or not?”

 

“ _ Yes, _ ” Lance hissed, closing his eyes. “I'm--I'm sorry. Just… Gently, please.”

 

“Of course,” Coran responded softly. There was a  _ click _ of the door closing shut behind him, and the soft sound of footsteps. Lance forced himself to stay still as the doctor moved around behind him. He whimpered as Coran fiddled with the cuffs, seemingly trying to find the keyhole; and then they were off, and Lance breathed out a shaky breath, flexing his wrists slightly.

 

“Better?” Coran asked, and Lance nodded. “I'll bet.” The doctor moved around in front of Lance and gently took one of the merman’s wrists in each hand; Lance winced at the contact, but forced himself not to pull away, opening his eyes slowly.

 

He sucked in a shocked breath when he saw his scales,  _ his beautiful blue scales, _ turned black and purple by the chafing of the cuffs. There were thin patches of red blood and sickly gray skin where some of the scales had fallen out. Lance's stomach turned, and he wished he hadn't looked. He bit his lip to keep from crying; he wouldn't let the humans see him like that.

 

But something on Coran’s face suggested the doctor knew what Lance was trying to hide. “I'm sorry,” he said softly. “I know how this must feel for you.”

 

Lance jerked his wrists away with a scoff. “How could you possibly understand?”

 

“Because,” Coran said patiently, “I knew another--a mermaid. Most of what I know of your species, I learned from her. Her name was Sirena.”

 

Lance swore he felt his heart stop--but all he said was, “I knew her,” even if it wasn't technically true.

 

Coran smiled sadly, as he picked up a rag and dipped it in the bucket of water he'd brought with him. “Then I'm glad for you; she certainly was a charmer,” he said with a chuckle.

 

“What happened to her?” Lance asked, even though the question made his throat constrict.

 

“Not sure, I'm afraid.” Coran started wiping at the bruised areas of Lance's wrists; Lance whimpered at the pain, even though he could tell the human was doing his best to be gentle. Coran shot him an apologetic look. “She'd gotten herself tangled in some fishing nets, when I found her. The second she was all patched up, she took off. Never saw her again.”

 

“I hope she's okay,” Lance said, quietly, not sure why he even said it.

 

“I'm sure she is,” Coran assured him. He pulled a roll of some white thing from his stash of stuff, and Lance looked at it curiously. “I'm going to bandage the wounds,” Coran explained. “Not tight enough to hurt, but I don't want them getting infected. Is that alright?”

 

Lance hesitated, and then nodded, obediently holding out his wrists. True to his word, Coran very carefully wrapped them in the white stuff, which felt soft and soothing against his bruised scales. He made a low trilling noise at the back of his throat, a mix of relief and gratitude. Coran just smiled, patting the backs of his hands gently before pulling away. “Alright, that should do it, lad. Now, take it easy, alright? Those bandages could come loose if you move them too much,” he warned.

 

Lance nodded earnestly, his eyes wide. “Okay. I… Thank you,” he said quietly.

 

“Not a problem, my boy,” Coran answered cheerfully. “I'll have Pidge fetch you some clean sheets--”

 

“You'll do no such thing,” Keith interrupted from outside the cell, making Lance flinch in surprise. “No one but you, me, or Shiro is allowed in that cell. I'll get the sheets,” he finished, then turned and walked off without another word.

 

Coran just sighed. “Keith will fetch you clean sheets,” he corrected, “and Hunk here will bring you some food and fresh water later.” He paused, then added sourly, “I expect Shiro will also be by to talk with you tonight.”

 

Lance's stomach clenched. “I don't want to talk to him.”

 

Coran was gathering his supplies, shuffling them all awkwardly into one arm. “I know, lad, but he's not going to give up. It'll be easier if you just work with him.”

 

Lance snorted. “What, so he can dump me back in the ocean and let the other merfolk tear me limb from limb for betraying them? No thanks.”

 

Coran had finished with the supplies, and pulled the cell door open, slipping out and locking it behind him. “For what it's worth, I'm sorry,” he said. “I know this isn't easy. I can't go against my captain… But I wish you luck.”

 

Lance just nodded, looking down at the floor of his cell. “Thank you,” he said again.

 

Coran gave him a tight smile, and then he walked away, Hunk following uncertainly right behind him. Lance sighed, sinking down to the floor and pulling his knees up to his chest.

 

Something Coran had said kept repeating itself in his mind.  _ Sirena, _ he thought, over and over.  _ Sirena. Sirena. Sirena. _

 

He hugged his knees tighter. Of all the things to happen to him--not only had he been taken prisoner by humans, but one of them knew his  _ mother. _ A soft, longing noise tore itself from his throat.  _ He _ hadn't even known her… He shook his head to clear it. There was no sense dwelling on it now… it had been twenty years, after all, twenty years of life without her. It was doubtful he'd ever see her again, and even if he did, she wouldn't recognize him. Best to just let it go.

 

But that didn't soothe the ache in his heart.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is introduced to the rest of the crew. Despite how surprisingly kind most of them are to him, he knows he can't stay aboard the ship if he wants to live. So, he begins plotting his escape.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Slight warning in this chapter for: More injuries. Poor Lance.**
> 
>  
> 
> So, for those who don't follow my [Tumblr](http://sugar-and-spite.tumblr.com/): my chinchilla Sugar just passed away earlier this week (like, the day after I posted the last chapter) and so I... have literally gotten nothing done since then. I already had this and chapter 4 done, so at the very least I can post this now and have a few more days before I am actually out of content, but... Yeah.
> 
> I'm hoping I can get chapter 5 done soon... maybe... I dunno, it's just been hard to sit down and write at all. So, apologies in advance if updates get more sporadic from here on out.
> 
> As always, my [Tumblr](http://sugar-and-spite.tumblr.com/) is the best place to reach me for info about updates or any other questions you might have. Thanks so much for your support for this story!

Over the course of the day, Lance became familiar with the crew, and their roles on the ship.

 

First, of course, was Coran, who came by his cell a few times to make sure he was alright. Lance was growing somewhat fond of the eccentric doctor, even if he'd never admit it. He hadn't expected a human to be so… likable. And yet here Coran was, always managing to bring a smile to Lance's face.

 

Then there was Hunk, who Lance learned was the ship's chef. Lance had no idea what a chef was, and had been incredibly confused when Hunk had brought him a “meal” in the middle of the day.

 

(“What is that?” Lance had asked, staring at the pink… thing on the plate.

 

“It's fish,” Hunk had said.

 

“That's not fish, it doesn't have any scales--”

 

“You eat fish with the scales still on?!” Hunk had seemed incredulous.

 

“You  _ don't? _ ”

 

“No, we cook them!”

 

“...What's a  _ cook _ ?”)

 

Despite the confusion over the food, though, Lance also decided he liked Hunk. The chef was easygoing with a gentle smile, and was clearly trying to make up for his initial treatment of Lance. He'd even caught a raw fish for Lance to eat--for which Lance was very grateful.

 

He didn't see much of Pidge, but Hunk had said that she was the crew's lookout. Lance had seen her walking by a few times, mostly poring over her notes or maps, or fiddling with her telescope. She only ever glanced at him briefly before continuing on her way. Lance never really tried talking to her either. Something about her demeanor told him she didn't want to be bothered.

 

By far, his favorite human on the ship was Allura, the navigator. She had gorgeous bronze skin and silvery hair that she often kept tied back in a loose bun. Lance had spoken to her briefly, a few times; at first he'd simply tried to compliment and impress her, but when she merely walked away, he changed tactics. After a bit of trial and error, he found out that she loved to talk about the constellations in the night sky--a fascination he shared, honestly. She'd talked for what felt like an hour when he brought up the subject, and he'd just watched her, completely enraptured, until Keith had come by to shoo her away.

 

Speaking of Keith, Lance had discovered he was Shiro’s first mate, which explained their matching shitty attitudes. Keith never spoke directly to Lance if he could avoid it, always calling him “it” or “the merman” or some other derogatory term. Lance started growling every time Keith came near; he couldn't help it. The guy just ruffled his fins, okay?

 

And finally, there was Shiro, the infamous captain.He'd been by rather frequently, watching Lance and asking continued questions about the merfolk. Which was kind of creepy, honestly, in Lance's opinion. It was during one of these staring/questioning sessions that Lance had noticed something  _ off _ about the captain’s right arm. When he'd asked Hunk about it later, the chef's eyes had gone dark with some terrible memory. “It's a prosthetic,” Hunk had said. “A fake.” And though Lance hadn't pressed further, he gathered the missing arm was a large part of Shiro’s hatred of merfolk.

 

Not that it mattered. Merfolk may have been cruel, but Shiro was, too.

 

Which led Lance to his current decision: he had to escape this ship, somehow. He didn't want to hurt Hunk or Coran, if he could avoid it, and he doubted he could fight his way past Keith or Shiro. So, logically, he needed a plan that would keep those four as far from his escape route as possible.

 

It just so happened that, right as the day was ending, Lance was presented with the perfect opportunity. His excellent hearing told him that Shiro was with Allura on the upper deck, while Hunk was in the kitchen, and Coran in his office--too far away to intervene. He'd just have to outrun Shiro…

 

And Keith, well, Keith was standing just outside Lance's cell, his arms crossed, ever-present scowl on his face. Lance carefully schooled his own expression into something morose and submissive-looking, not wanting the first mate to suspect anything.

 

Keith, thankfully, seemed totally oblivious. “Shiro isn't going to keep you alive forever, you know,” he was saying, “so you may as well cooperate. Once you do, we'll let you go.”

 

Lance frowned, taking a step towards the front of the cell. “But then the other merfolk would kill me,” he said, the pleading note to his tone only half-faked.

 

“That's not our concern,” Keith dismissed with a shrug. “Your own fault if you can't defend yourself.”

 

Normally, Lance would've bristled, but he was trying to work an angle, here. He widened his eyes and dipped his chin, sticking his lower lip out slightly in an absolutely pitiful expression. “Please… Just listen to me.” He stepped fully up to the bars, wrapping his scaled fingers loosely around them.

 

“I'm listening,” Keith said. He looked bored.

 

Well, Lance was going to change that. He closed his eyes, opened his mouth, and… he started to  _ sing. _

 

It wasn't really music in the way humans would describe it, and above water it sounded mournful and almost eerie, at odds with the song's true purpose. Low, whale-like moans and higher clicks and squeals reminiscent of a dolphin flowed from Lance's lips, interspersed with hums and trills that were entirely unique to merfolk. When he opened his eyes, Keith was standing rigid, staring at him with wide eyes. He smiled, and Keith actually  _ jerked _ forward, like he was being pulled by some invisible string.

 

“Shiro,” Keith said.

 

_ Yes, _ beckoned Lance's song, and the merman crooked his fingers to urge Keith forwards as he himself stepped back.  _ Come to me. I am everything you desire. _

 

Keith fumbled with his belt for a moment before pulling off a ring of keys. He selected one and unlocked the cell door, stepping inside. He was saying something, softly--Lance realized he was saying Shiro’s name, over and over again.

 

Lance waited in the middle of the cell for Keith to reach him, still smiling and singing. As soon as the human was close enough, Lance gently plucked the keys from his hand, met with no resistance. Keith was watching him, wide-eyed and breathless, as if Lance was the air he breathed.

 

Lance let his fingers ghost over Keith's arm as he slipped around him, watching the first mate shudder at the action. Keith followed as Lance left the cell; Lance closed the door between them, and Keith's fingers wrapped around the bars as Lance turned the key in the lock.

 

_ Sucker, _ Lance thought, as he tossed the key down the hall, turned, and fled. The second he stopped singing, he heard the cell bars rattle as Keith jerked in surprise, and then the first mate's voice saying, “Shiro…?”

 

And then, “Fuck, Lance--SHIRO! THE MERMAN IS ESCAPING!”

 

Lance wasn't too concerned. He was already halfway up the steps to the deck. Once he was there, he just had to make it over the side of the ship, and he'd be free. Just a few more steps--

 

Just as he reached the door, it was thrown open from the other side, and Lance literally ran into the person suddenly blocking his escape.

 

Cold fingers wrapped around Lance's neck, pressing against his gills, and he gasped as he was lifted off the ground. He raised his hands to scratch and claw at his captor’s wrist, but to no avail.

 

“What the hell are you doing out?” Shiro said.

 

Shiro carried him down the stairs while Lance gasped and struggled just to breathe, kicking his feet halfheartedly. “Put me down,” he choked out, desperately, but Shiro ignored him. After a moment Lance stopped fighting entirely, going limp in the captain’s hold, feeling tears sting his eyes. He'd been so close…

 

They reached the cell, and Lance saw Shiro raise an eyebrow. “This fish got the better of  _ you _ ? I was expecting Hunk.”

 

Keith scoffed. “It did something--I wasn't in my right mind.”

 

“Siren song,” Shiro assumed, pulling his own set of keys from his pocket and unlocking the cell. “Why weren't you wearing your earplugs?”

 

Keith shuffled his feet, embarrassed. “I… didn't think that was real,” he mumbled, pressing past Shiro into the hallway. Shiro tossed Lance forward none-too-gently, and it was all Lance could do to catch himself before he hit the floor, growling in pain as the action pulled at his injured wrists. The door slammed shut behind him, and Lance turned to see Shiro looking down at Keith, a hand on the first mate's cheek. “Did it hurt you?” Shiro asked, in a voice so soft Lance almost felt like he was intruding.

 

Keith huffed, though he leaned into the touch. “I'm fine, Shiro,” he mumbled. “Don't worry so much.”

 

Shiro smiled. “Don't give me reasons to worry,” he retorted. “Go get Coran to take a look at you. And wear your earplugs from now on.”

 

Keith snorted, offering a half-salute. “Yes, sir,” he intoned, heading off down the hall. Lance flinched as Shiro suddenly turned back to glare at him through the bars of the cell.

 

Shiro stepped forward, holding up a finger in warning. “Try that again,” he threatened, “and you'll get more than just a bruise.” Lance's gills fluttered nervously, and he shrank back, curling in on himself to seem smaller. Apparently satisfied, Shiro left.

 

Lance waited for the sound of Shiro's boots on the floor to fade away before he allowed himself to relax, pulling himself up onto the cot and curling up. He could feel himself shaking slightly, and he hesitantly brought a hand up to his gills--only to hiss in pain and withdraw it. Bruised for sure. Lance supposed he was lucky the humans hadn't decided to cut his gills up. Yet. A bruise, at least, would heal eventually.

 

It would be faster if he could get to the water. He  _ needed _ to escape, now more than ever. But, exhausted and sore as he was, Lance didn't manage to make any further plans before sleep claimed him.

 

~*~

 

The next morning passed mostly uneventfully. Hunk had come by with another fish, which Lance had eaten halfheartedly, ignoring the chef's concerned looks and questions. Eventually, Hunk had given up and left, and Lance had started to formulate another plan.

 

The burning in his gills was making him impatient, so when he saw Pidge walk by sometime in the afternoon, he decided to just go for it. “Pidge.” She ignored him. Raising an eyebrow, Lance tried again. “Pidge. Pidgey? Little pidgeon. Hello?”

 

Finally she stopped walking and glanced over at him, looking surprised. “Oh, Lance. Sorry. I was… distracted.” She pocketed the compass she'd been tinkering with and headed over to his cell. “Did you need something?”

 

She was standing a little ways back from the bars, too far for Lance to reach. He'd have to lure her closer. He tilted his head to the side slightly, gesturing to the bruises on his gills. “This. It hurts,” he whined. “Do you think Coran might have something to help?”

 

Pidge frowned, stepping a little closer and adjusting her glasses. “What is that--a bruise?” she murmured. “I dunno, I can go ask…”

 

She was close enough. Lance's arm shot out between the bars and grabbed her wrist, careful not to gouge her with his claws, pulling her forward so that she stumbled into the door. She cried out in surprise, and Lance winced, feeling guilty even as he reached for the keys on her belt. “I'm sorry, I'm sorry,” he said through his teeth. His hands closed around the keyring, and he tugged on it, but--it wouldn't come loose. Panic rose in his chest.

 

“Keith! Shiro! Help!” Pidge was shouting, trying to pull away from Lance. He hissed, his desperation making his movements clumsy as he tried to grab at the keys again. He kept apologizing, again and again. He almost had them--

 

And then someone was pulling Pidge away from him. Having no time to let go, Lance's claws accidentally tore shallow cuts in her skin; the scent of blood made his gills flare, and he stepped back from the cell door, trying to control his reaction.

 

He needn't have bothered, though. The cell door was thrown open, and Shiro stormed in, startling Lance into moving back against the far wall. He could see Keith standing protectively in front of Pidge from outside the cell, with Pidge’s eyes blown wide as she clutched at her bleeding arm. And then all of Lance's attention went to Shiro as the captain crowded up against him, one arm across his chest to pin him to the wall, his other hand holding a knife to Lance's ear-fin. Lance whimpered and tried to shift away from the weapon, but Shiro pressed it harder to the skin, drawing blood. Lance fell still and closed his eyes, breathing shallowly in his panic.

 

“I told you not to touch my crew again,” Shiro growled. Lance shuddered. “I-I’m sorry, please--”

 

“Shut up,” Shiro ordered, and Lance obeyed, swallowing the lump in his throat. Shiro seemed to be considering what to do with him. “How can I get the message across to you…?”

 

Lance's lip trembled. “I won't try it again, I swear--”

 

Shiro shoved the knife down harder, and Lance  _ screamed _ as he felt it tear entirely through the thin, gauzy flesh that made up his fin. He jerked in Shiro's hold, trying to pull away, but there was nowhere to go--so with a sob, he fell still again, biting his lip to keep from crying out at the pain.

 

Shiro just glared at him. “Words mean nothing coming from you creatures. You only respond to pain.”

 

Lance sobbed again, and Shiro finally released him, watching in disgust as the merman collapsed to the floor. Lance just curled in on himself, raising his shaking hands to his fin. He hissed at the sting when he touched the cut, but held his fingers against it anyway, trying to stop the bleeding.

 

“Touch my crew again, and you lose the fin,” Shiro said, and left.

 

Only once he was gone did Lance allow himself to truly break down, tears spilling down his cheeks as he cried. He realized now that he was never going to escape this ship. Why hadn't Shiro just killed him? Why force him to keep living like this, knowing his days were numbered? It was torture.

 

“Lance…”

 

Lance's head shot up at the voice, and he shrank back against the wall when he saw Keith standing at the door to his cell. “Don't come near me,” he threatened, but his voice shook.

 

Keith, surprisingly, looked… uncertain. He glanced over his shoulder, and then said, “I took Pidge to Coran to get those scratches looked at. But she said--she said you weren't trying to hurt her. That you  _ apologized _ to her.” He said it like he thought the concept was impossible.

 

Lance's brow furrowed. “Why would I  _ want _ to hurt her?” he snapped. “I'm not just some--some mindless killer! I wouldn't just hurt people for no reason…”

 

Keith frowned. “But you're a merman. And we're human.”

 

“So?” Lance retorted. “She never did anything to hurt me. And I don't  _ like _ causing people pain, despite what you all seem to think!”

 

Keith crossed his arms. “I don't believe you.”

 

Lance rolled his eyes. “Then why are you still here, if you're just gonna ignore everything I say?” he groused. “Leave me alone. You've done enough already.”

 

Keith seemed taken aback by that. “I--” he began, and then cut himself off, reconsidering. He shifted his feet nervously. “I'll get you some bandages,” he finally said, and then walked away, hands in his pockets.

 

Lance made his way over to the cot and curled up on top of it, still cradling his bleeding fin. He squeezed his eyes shut. There was no point, he thought, no point in continuing to fight, no point in giving these humans the satisfaction of hurting him any more. An uneasy sleep claimed him, and his nightmares were plagued with humans with sharp teeth and gleaming knives.

 

But when he awoke, there was a bucket of water, a washcloth, and clean bandages sitting inside the door to his cell, with no one in sight. Confused, Lance cleaned and bandaged the cut, hissing and wincing at the pressure, but knowing he had to. Once done, he returned to his cot, facing away from the door. He didn’t want to see the bucket, or think about what it might mean.

  
Because if  _ Keith _ had brought it for him, well… That would mean the first mate wasn’t as simple and hatred-driven as Lance had initially believed. If Keith could show compassion, then Lance could no longer see him as just an enemy. It was more emotional turmoil than he was prepared to deal with, currently; so he busied himself counting the boards in the ship’s wooden floor, until boredom won out, and he succumbed to sleep once more.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance has given up. This causes some concern among the crew, most notably Keith, who Lance didn’t expect to notice at all. But Lance resolutely ignores all of the humans, absolutely set in his decision--until the ship is attacked by a merfolk boarding party, and Lance ends up face-to-face with someone he had hoped he would never see again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> **Warnings in this chap for suicidal ideation and references to past physical/sexual abuse.**
> 
> I'll admit I was like laughing my ass off at the comments last chapter. About half of you were yelling at me to stop hurting Lance (never). And a surprising number of you predicted some of the events of this chapter, although you didn't realize it. My face through it all was basically just ">:3c"
> 
> Anyway. Like... half of chapter 5 is written? So I hope I'll have that done within a couple days so I can keep up with the rough semi-schedule I've had going so far (a chapter every 3-4 days). Things are still... kinda hard for me, after losing my chinchilla. But it's getting better. So I'm hoping I'll be able to keep up with this fic.
> 
> As always, come scream at me on my [Tumblr](http://sugar-and-spite.tumblr.com/)!

The next morning, Lance didn’t eat the fish Hunk brought him. In fact, he didn't get up from his cot or acknowledge the chef at all, despite Hunk’s barrage of questions. After about half an hour of trying in vain to get Lance's attention, Hunk left, though Lance could still smell the fish. He assumed Hunk had left it there for him, though he didn't bother to check.

 

A few hours later, there were footsteps, and the fish scent receded--Lance didn't look up to see who had taken it away. He still hadn't moved.

 

A few more hours passed, and Lance heard hushed voices from somewhere in the rear of the ship. “He didn't eat the fish I brought him this morning, and he wasn't moving at all,” Hunk was saying, sounding concerned. “Is he sick or something?”

 

There was a heavy sigh--Coran. “I don't think so, lad,” the doctor said. “Merfolk rarely get sick at all, let alone so suddenly, and he's shown no symptoms before now. I highly doubt an illness is the cause of his behavior.”

 

“Then what's wrong with him?” That was Keith's voice.

 

“I can't be sure just yet,” Coran replied, but from the tone of his voice Lance could tell he was lying. “Just give him a few days and see how he feels.”

 

There was no point in ‘giving him a few days’. Lance knew it. Coran knew it. But at the very least, Lance was grateful to the doctor for telling the humans to leave him alone.

 

But to his surprise, Keith spoke up again. “So there's nothing we can do for him?”

 

There was a pause, and then: “I'm fairly certain you've done enough already, Keith.” Coran’s tone was accusatory. “You and Shiro. The best thing you can do for him is to leave him in peace.”

 

“I--” Keith began, like he wanted to argue; and then he stopped, and sighed. “You're right,” he admitted. “But I won't just sit around and let him starve. You're a doctor, figure out what he needs.”

 

Lance heard Keith's footsteps leaving the room; he stayed totally still as he heard the first mate pause by his cell, and then, thankfully, Keith walked away. Lance didn't bother listening for where he went--he was happy as long as he was being left alone.

 

And then, he realized something--Keith had called him a  _ him, _ not an  _ it, _ for the first time since he'd been taken aboard the ship.

 

Unsettled and confused by the change, Lance wondered at what it could mean, until he finally drifted into an uneasy sleep.

 

~*~

 

The days fell into a sort of routine.

 

In the morning, he'd wake to the smell of fresh fish, sometimes bloody, and Hunk’s voice urging him to get up and just  _ eat something, please. _ Though he couldn't keep his fins and gills from flaring when he smelled the blood, so far he'd had enough self-control to stay curled up on his cot, though hunger gnawed at his stomach. It wouldn't be long now, he reassured himself. He couldn't possibly survive much longer. Either the humans would kill him, or he'd waste away, and finally he'd be free.

 

He'd spend the afternoons dozing or daydreaming, imagining impossible worlds--worlds where he was cared for, had friends and family and even lovers, where he was wanted, and useful, and free. But he was always pulled back to harsh reality by the sound of Keith's footsteps, pacing in front of his cell.

 

Keith did it every afternoon. Sometimes he'd talk--either to Lance, asking him questions, or begging him to cooperate--or just talk in general, making statements and observations that didn't expect a response. Lance wasn't sure what to think of it. He thought the first mate must be truly desperate, if he thought talking to Lance would help him at all.

 

Sometimes during the day, Lance would hear snippets of conversation from the crew. They expressed worry about his state to Coran and to each other, but no one seemed to know what was wrong. (Lance suspected Coran did, but so far, the doctor hadn't told anyone.) Hunk and Allura were worried, Pidge was frustrated, Coran was resigned. And Keith, well… Lance couldn't quite tell what Keith was. He wasn't sure he wanted to know.

 

Shiro came by the cell every evening. He didn't pace, unlike Keith, and he never said a word, just watching as Lance pretended to sleep. Lance had no way of knowing what was going on in the captain's head, not that he cared. Some nights he dozed off before he even heard the soft click of Shiro's boot heels as the human retreated to his quarters. Other nights he stayed awake, staring at the wall, wondering what he'd done to deserve this.

 

And so, days passed, as they had a habit of doing; Lance wasn't sure how many. He knew (from experience) that merfolk could survive incredibly long times without eating--longer than humans, apparently. But he also knew his time wasn't infinite. His suffering would end soon. He just had to hold on.

 

Fate, however, had other plans. Lance was startled awake from a restless nap by his cell door slamming open, and Keith's footsteps storming inside. Lance scrambled into a sitting position, arms up to defend himself, only to find Keith standing beside the cot with his arms crossed, a scowl on his face. “This ends today,” he said.

 

Lance lowered his arms slightly. “You're going to kill me?” he asked. The relief was plain in his voice.

 

Keith's scowl deepened. “No, idiot, I'm not letting you die like this!” he shouted. Before he could react, Keith had put an arm under his legs and another behind his back, and pulled him from the bed. Lance shouted and struggled, legs flailing and claws aiming for Keith's face; he tore a line of shallow cuts down Keith's cheek, but Keith just grimaced and leaned back, out of Lance's reach. “Stop fighting me, I'm trying to help you, asshole,” he hissed through clenched teeth.

 

Lance ignored him and continued trying to wiggle his way out of Keith's hold. “You can't make me tell you anything, so if you're not going to kill me then just let me die,” he protested, pushing weakly at Keith's chest.

 

Keith just tightened his grip on the struggling merman. “I don't care about that right now,” he said, and Lance faltered when he saw the sincerity in his eyes. “Please just let me help you.”

 

Lip trembling, Lance finally went limp in Keith's hold, his head resting on the first mate's shoulder. He felt tears pricking at his eyes. “I don't want to keep living as a prisoner,” he whispered, eyes sliding shut.

 

He felt Keith sigh, the exhale tickling his fin. “I know,” Keith said. “I'll… I'll figure it out. But you gotta stay alive first, okay?”

 

“Okay,” Lance said. He was too tired to fight. He let himself relax as Keith carried him out of the cell, and towards the back of the ship. “Where are we going?”

 

“Coran’s office,” Keith answered. “He can take care of--”

 

Keith stumbled forward, almost dropping Lance as the entire ship shuddered, the wood creaking ominously. “What the…?” Keith mumbled, and Lance cracked open one eye. What had just happened?

 

Then Pidge’s voice sounded from the deck, sharp and clear. “Merfolk! We're under attack!”

 

Keith's face went pale as he glanced down at Lance. He seemed torn; he shot a look over his shoulder, towards the deck, and then back at Lance, his expression stricken.

 

There was a shout of pain from the deck--Shiro. Keith's face hardened. “Stay here,” he instructed, setting Lance down on his feet--Lance wobbled unsteadily for a moment before finding his balance. “I'll be right back,” Keith promised, and then he was running towards the deck, drawing a sword from his belt as he went.

 

Lance waited all of about six seconds before stumbling after Keith, heading for the deck as well. Like hell was he going to stay put. Sure, he may be weak, but he was finally out of his cell, and the crew were all distracted. All he had to do was slip out during the fight, dive over the edge of the ship, and be gone before anyone could follow him. His heartbeat sped up. An hour ago, he'd been fully prepared to die, and now--now he had a shot at freedom. It almost felt too good to be true.

 

At the top of the stairs leading to the deck, Lance cracked open the door, cautiously peering out. Instantly he was assailed by the smell of blood. The pirate crew were fighting for their lives against a small band of merfolk--a boarding party, Lance realized. There couldn't have been more than eight mermen, though all wore armor made of seashells and shed scales, and all wielded spears sharpened to wicked points. And even in their scant numbers, there were more merfolk than humans. Lance doubted the battle would end in the pirates’ favor.

 

Not that he cared. All the combatants seemed totally preoccupied, none even seeming to notice the door opening. Now was his perfect chance. Slipping through the door, Lance turned to his left and sprinted for the railing. Just a few feet, he could do this, he could--

 

A spear was shoved horizontally across his path, and Lance backpedaled to avoid colliding with it, the motion unbalancing him and causing him to fall to the floor. Scrambling back on his hands, he looked up at his assailant, and--

 

He swore he felt his heart stop.

 

_ No. _

 

The merman standing above him sneered, the action pulling oddly at the scar that covered half his face. Atop the scar rested a mechanical-looking lens of pure yellow glass, replacing his lost eye. The merman withdrew his spear, the mechanical joints in his prosthetic right arm humming softly at the motion. “Well, would you look at the catch of the day,” he said with a smirk, in a voice that sent chills down Lance's spine.

 

“Sendak,” Lance said, though it came out as more of a terrified whisper.

 

Sendak grinned. “Did you miss me, little whore?”

 

Sendak stepped forward, and Lance scrambled back again, flinching when his back hit a wall. He tried to get to his feet, but when he felt the cold point of Sendak’s spear under his chin, he fell still, eyes locked on the merman in front of him.

 

“Look at you. Half starved. You poor thing,” Sendak was saying, casting his gaze up and down Lance's body. “I bet these humans aren't even  _ taking care of you _ like I can.” Lance's jaw twitched at the comment, and Sendak just laughed. “I bet nobody will ever satisfy you like I did.”

 

“You put your hands on me again, and I'll tear your throat out,” Lance threatened, though his whole body was shaking. “I swear, I'll--”

 

“You'll  _ what? _ ” Sendak challenged, using his spear to tilt Lance's chin up. “Look at you, you couldn't beat a jellyfish in a fight, let alone me.” He smirked again. “Tell you what. I have a deal for you. I'll forgive you for leaving the tribe, welcome you back with open arms. I'll even save you from these humans.” He lowered his voice. “All you have to do is beg for me to take you back.”

 

Lance narrowed his eyes, growling low in his throat. “I'd rather die than let you use me again,” he declared.

 

Sendak’s expression morphed into a scowl. He slapped Lance across the cheek with the flat side of his spear, the loud cracking sound echoing across the deck. The force of it sent Lance sprawling; before he could recover, Sendak’s spear was at his chest, directly over his heart. “You ungrateful little  _ slut, _ ” Sendak spat. “I gave you  _ everything. _ I fed you. I sheltered you. I gave you your  _ name! _ And  _ this _ is how you treat me?” He scoffed. “You'd rather  _ die, _ you said? Well,  _ that _ can certainly be arranged.”

 

Lance glared up at him, raising his chin defiantly. “I got my name giving you that scar on your face,” he said coolly. “Now that I'm finally free of you, I will  _ never _ let you touch me again.”

 

Sendak scowled. “Say your prayers,” he warned, raising his spear.

 

Lance closed his eyes, bracing himself for the pain. Then, there was the clang of metal on metal, and the sound of Sendak's spear burying itself in the wood of the wall above Lance's head; Sendak cursed loudly, and Lance opened his eyes.

 

Keith was standing above him, his sword blocking the shaft of Sendak's spear. Sendak tugged on the spear handle, but it remained firmly embedded. With a flick of his wrist, Keith jerked the weapon from the merman’s grip, and Lance shuffled out of the way as it clattered to the floor. Sendak growled and stepped back, his fins flaring in warning. “You can't beat me, human.”

 

“You're already beaten,” Keith retorted, gesturing with his head to the battle on the deck--which was already ending, the humans forcing the remaining merfolk to flee back into the sea.

 

Sendak ground his teeth in frustration. “You haven't seen the last of us. We will be back for what is ours.”

 

Lance shrank back, but Keith held steady, his sword pointed at Sendak's chest. “Lance is  _ ours, _ ” he corrected. “You can try as many times as you want, but it'll always end up the same.”

 

“Keith!” That was Shiro's voice, shouting from the other side of the deck. Lance could hear footsteps; the rest of the crew were converging on them now. Sendak snarled, turned, and fled, leaping over the railing without looking back. Only when he heard the splash of Sendak hitting the water far below did Lance relax, breathing in and exhaling deeply to try and calm himself.

 

In an instant Keith was kneeling in front of him, sword sheathed, offering Lance a hand to help him stand. “Are you alright?” he asked.

 

Lance looked at the offered hand, then up at Keith's face, brow furrowed in confusion. “You saved my life,” he said, like he couldn't quite believe it.

 

Keith shrugged, glancing away. “I told you I wasn't gonna let you die,” he muttered. “Come on, get up.”

 

Hesitantly, Lance took Keith's hand, allowing the human to pull him to his feet. He glanced towards the ship's railing, and the sea beyond, his gills fluttering in longing.

 

Keith followed his gaze. “If you want to go, I won't stop you,” he said, startling Lance. “But if you stay…”

 

“Lance! Keith!” The rest of the crew had reached them by now; Lance was surprisingly relieved to see them all mostly unharmed. Shiro immediately went to Keith's side, putting a hand on the first mate's shoulder; Coran, Hunk, and Pidge ran directly up to Lance, their faces showing varying degrees of concern. “Are you both alright?” Coran asked, casting a quick glance between the two.

 

Lance hesitated. He looked at the sea, and then at Keith, then at the other crew members, still waiting for his reply. He took a deep breath. And he nodded, smiling slightly. “I-I'm okay. Thanks to Keith.”

 

Coran seemed surprised, but didn't comment. “Well, Lance… If you're willing, I'd like to take a look at you. Get you something to eat and make sure you recover properly from these past several days.” He spoke hesitantly, like he fully expected Lance to turn him down.

 

Lance chewed on his lip in consideration, his eyes darting quickly to Shiro before looking back at Coran. “I… I'd heal faster in the water,” he said timidly, unsure if he was allowed to make such a request.

 

“I have a tub,” Coran offered. “We can fill it with seawater for you to soak in. Would that work?”

 

Lance beamed. “That would be perfect. Thank you.”

 

“Now, wait one second,” Shiro interrupted, making Lance flinch. “This is still a dangerous prisoner we're dealing with, or did you forget that?”

 

“All due respect, captain--” Coran began.

 

Keith cut him off. “Shiro. It's okay,” he asserted. “Let Coran take care of Lance. Come on; you and I should talk.”

 

Shiro cast a doubtful look at Lance, but let Keith lead him away, much to Lance's relief. He felt his fins relax, and he smiled hesitantly at Coran and Hunk. “Thank you,” he said, sincerely.

 

Hunk offered him a hand. “Come on. You must be starving, can you walk?”

 

Lance took a hesitant step forward, and wobbled slightly on his feet. Instantly, Hunk was by his side, supporting him with an arm around his back. “Alright, easy, let's get you to Coran’s office,” he said, soothingly. Lance just nodded, flashing a grateful smile.

 

Coran led the way, and Hunk helped Lance as they headed back belowdecks; and for the first time in his life, Lance really felt wanted and cared for.  _ Lance is  _ **_ours,_ ** Keith had said.

 

And oh, how badly he wanted to believe that.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lance is starting to recover from his self-imposed starvation. Keith takes him to talk to Shiro. The three of them come to an agreement, and Lance starts to think--maybe he really does belong here.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, so, sorry this one took so long. I'm still... dealing with personal stuff. I finally at least managed to get this chapter done, but now I have absolutely nothing written going forwards, so chapters from here on out may take a bit longer than the first few did. Sorry :c
> 
> You're always welcome to come talk to me on my [Tumblr](http://sugar-and-spite.tumblr.com/) if you're wondering about updates or just wanna scream about Voltron.

The tub in Coran’s office wasn't anything special--a little wooden thing, barely long enough for Lance to lay in it in his human form. But Hunk and Coran had filled it, barrel by barrel, with seawater, never once complaining about how many trips they had to take to do it. So Lance had gratefully submerged himself in it, leaning his head back on the rim and letting his legs shift back into a tail. And even though his tail hung over the edge of the tub, he still felt more relaxed than he had since he'd first been pulled from the ocean.

 

Hunk stared at his tail when he first transformed. “So, you can just--change back and forth at will?” he asked, curious.

 

Lance shrugged, flicking his tail in time with the motion. “Pretty much, yeah,” he answered. “I mean, nobody's really sure  _ how _ it works exactly, but it's pretty handy.”

 

“Huh,” Hunk said, inching closer, his hands half-outstretched. “Can I touch--”

 

“No!” Lance yelped, jerking his tail away so quickly it sloshed water over the side of the tub. He immediately felt guilty, his fins drooping when he saw the expression on Hunk’s face. “I mean--I’m sorry,” he apologized, looking down. “I just… don’t like letting people touch me.”

 

Hunk nodded in understanding. “It’s okay,” he soothed. And then he snapped his fingers, seeming to remember something. “I was supposed to be getting you food! Oh God, you must be starving,” he said sympathetically. “I’ll be right back, okay? Take it easy!” And with that, he left the room, so quickly that Lance blinked, slightly disoriented.

 

“Uhh…” he said, glancing at Coran. “Is he always like that?”

 

“Yep!” was the cheery response from Coran. Lance laughed slightly, settling lower in the water and humming in approval when it lapped over his gills. He heard more than saw Coran head for the door. “Well, I’ll leave you alone for a bit, lad. You deserve some rest,” the doctor said, and then he left, and Lance was alone.

 

Hunk brought him food not long after--a small bucket full of several very plump, raw fish, which had Lance salivating from the second he could smell them--but the chef had quickly excused himself again, giving Lance some much-needed time to himself. Lance hummed softly to himself as he ate, alternating between songs the merfolk sang to each other, and sea shanties he’d heard drifting off of human ships on the ocean. Those songs were his favorite, though he’d never dared to try and sing them where the other merfolk might hear; but as he set down the now-empty bucket and relaxed back into the water, closing his eyes, he hummed one he’d heard a very long time ago, that still repeated now and then in his dreams.

 

“How does a merman know a sailor’s song?”

 

Lance jerked out of the water, his startled motion causing some of it to splash over the rim, but he relaxed slightly when he saw Keith. “I heard it once, when I was young,” he said. He shifted so that he was leaning on the front edge of the tub, his tail curling behind him and sliding into the water. “I used to sneak out to watch the ships. Back before Sendak was in charge.”

 

Keith hummed, seeming to understand. “Sendak was the one on the deck.” Lance tensed up, and nodded, clenching his jaw. “I heard what he was saying to you,” Keith continued, his lip curled slightly in anger. “I should’ve killed him.”

 

Lance shook his head, resting his chin on the edge of the tub. “He would’ve killed  _ you, _ ” he said dejectedly. “Or worse. Trust me, it’s better to just stay away from him.”

 

Keith huffed out an angry breath, but didn’t argue. “So he leads your tribe?” he asked instead. “How many of you are there?”

 

Lance shifted nervously, his tail flicking out of the water briefly, spraying droplets behind him in an arc, then settling back in with a splash. “If I tell you, they’ll kill me,” he said in a choked voice. “You don’t understand what it’s like--”

 

“I do understand,” Keith cut him off harshly. Lance flinched at his tone; Keith sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Listen,” he said. “Shiro and I wanna talk to you.” Lance shrank back into the tub, shoulders hunched, but Keith held up his hands in a placating gesture. “Just talk,” he reassured. “We’re not gonna hurt you, okay? I--I told him some of what I heard yesterday. So he understands that you’re not the enemy here.”

 

Lance’s face fell. “I  _ am _ the enemy,” he corrected, sounding hopeless. “I’m one of them. You’re all right to hate me.”

 

“No. We’re not,” Keith corrected firmly. “We were wrong. We hurt you. And I know that--it’s not something we’re going to be able to make up for overnight. But we’re willing to try. If you’ll let us.” Lance looked away, unsure, and he heard Keith take a step forward. “Just talk to us. Please.”

 

Lance sighed. He used his arms to lift himself partially out of the water, and shifted his tail back to legs, standing up fully. “Alright,” he said, sounding like he’d never been less sure of anything in his life. “We can talk.”

 

Keith offered a half-smile. “Follow me.”

 

~*~

 

The room Keith led him to was some sort of office, or study; there were shelves of rolled-up maps and worn leather-bound books along the walls, and a few scattered trinkets across the floor. An ornate globe in the corner caught Lance’s eye, and he stared at it for perhaps a bit longer than necessary, before he realized he was staring and turned back towards the center of the room with an embarrassed cough. The middle of the study was dominated by a huge wooden table, with two chairs on either side. Shiro had been sitting on the far side when they came in, and Keith moved around the table to join him, leaving Lance alone and feeling rather outnumbered as he hesitated by the door. “Uh…”

 

Shiro gestured to the chair across from him. “Please, sit.”

 

Lance sat, moving slowly and carefully, watching the pirate captain the whole way. Shiro had simply folded his hands on the table in front of him, and was watching Lance in turn, his expression unreadable. Lance cleared his throat, fiddling with his fingers in his lap. “Keith said you wanted to see me.”

 

“We just wanted to talk about this… arrangement here,” Keith began. “The way we’ve been treating you isn’t fair.”

 

“But we do need your help.” Shiro picked up Keith’s train of thought seamlessly, as if they shared a mind. “We’ve been trying to find a way to stop the merfolk attacks once and for all. And for that, we need to learn as much as we can about how your tribes work.”

 

Lance fidgeted in his seat, looking down at the table. “You know I’m not the biggest fan of the tribes,” he began, “but I’ve been telling you, there’s nothing I can say. They’ve been pretty much leaving me alone for now, but if I turn traitor, they  _ will _ know, and they’ll hunt me down and kill me. I won’t stand a chance on my own.”

 

“What if you’re not on your own?” Keith challenged.

 

Lance looked up at him, confused. “What do you mean?”

 

“What he means is… everyone on this ship has had their share of suffering at merfolk hands,” Shiro explained slowly. “But from what Keith told me, it sounds like maybe none of us can even come close to what you’ve been through.” The captain glanced at Keith, then back at Lance, his expression determined. “We need your help. You need protection from the other merfolk. So, if you’d consider it… you could stay here. We’d feed you, teach you how to fight. Keep you safe. You’d never have to worry about them again.”

 

Lance’s eyes were wide, and he glanced between Keith and Shiro, as if he couldn’t quite believe what he was hearing. “Wait, wait,” he said, holding his hands up. “You would--you’d let me stay here? On this ship, with you?” Shiro nodded, and Lance frowned. “But I’m… a merman.”

 

“You’d be one of us,” Keith corrected. “ _ What _ you are doesn't matter, it's  _ who _ you are that counts. And you're a good person, Lance. Like Shiro said, you've been hurt a lot. Some of it was our fault. But we want to try and help you now, if you'll let us.”

 

Lance watched them both carefully, still doubtful. This had to be too good to be true… but there was no trace of doubt or hesitation on either of their faces. They were both just watching, waiting for him to answer. Finally, he took a deep breath and set his hands on the table, his position mirroring Shiro's. “What do you want to know?” he asked.

 

~*~

 

It felt like they had spent hours in that room, going over details about the merfolk. Lance had told them everything. The tribe he'd run from, which used to be led by a merman called Prorok, but now was run by Sendak. How many merfolk there were, how many weapons, how many warriors. He told them that Sendak answered to a mermaid called Acxa, and that she and another called Ezor oversaw most of the tribes in the western seas. They reported to Lotor, Emperor Zarkon’s son. There was a similar setup in the east, with Lotor's mother Haggar controlling the tribes there through her lackeys Zethrid and Narti. And Zarkon himself ruled over the fabled merfolk city of Daibazaal, which no human had ever seen and returned from alive.

 

Shiro had seemed particularly interested in the city, but Lance unfortunately wasn't too sure of the specifics. He'd never been there himself. You had to be specially chosen by Zarkon, Lotor, or Haggar to live there, as he explained to the crestfallen captain.

 

“Could they keep human prisoners there?” Shiro had asked. But Lance honestly didn't know.

 

They'd referenced maps of the area and books about merfolk anatomy and behavior, both of which Lance had declared to be hopelessly inaccurate. (Or at least, the passages Keith and Shiro read aloud for him were inaccurate, because Lance had never learned how to read.) They'd discussed tactics and weapons and vital body parts. Lance had barely been able to look up from the table when they talked about that, his hands shaking in fear, knowing he was willingly giving them information about how to hurt him. But Shiro noticed his fear almost immediately, and had quietly closed the book they were referencing, suggesting they stop the discussion for now. And though Lance had still been too afraid to look the captain in the eye, he smiled gratefully and dipped his head in appreciation before hurrying out the door.

 

So that was how Lance found himself on the ship’s deck, leaning against the railing and staring out at the water. In the light of the setting sun, it was beautiful, and his gills fluttered longingly at the sight of it. He'd made a choice, he told himself; to give up the sea for the safety of the human ship. And safety wasn't the only reason, either, much as it surprised him. He was actually starting to  _ like _ the humans--or at least, most of them. He could let his guard down around Keith, and he tolerated Shiro. Even that was more than he'd ever expected, and yet, he could almost consider Coran and Hunk to be  _ friends. _ He'd never had anyone he felt that way about in his tribe. He'd never been cared for before, the way the doctor and the chef cared for him. All in all, staying on the ship had been an easy choice over the uncertainty and loneliness of the sea.

 

But, still, he couldn't help the way his heart longed for the waves.

 

The creaking of the ship's boards behind him made him jump, and he turned to see Keith approaching him, looking curious. The first mate leaned on the rail next to Lance, gazing down at the waves. “What are you doing up here by yourself?” Keith asked, not looking at Lance.

 

Lance's fins ruffled defensively. “You said I could stay here, I don't need someone to watch me all the time to make sure I don't try to run--”

 

“What?” Keith interrupted, looking up in surprise. “No, I--I didn't mean it that way. I'm sorry,” he offered. Lance relaxed somewhat, though he was still wary. Keith sighed. “I just… wondered what you were thinking about.”

 

“Oh.” And now Lance felt guilty for jumping to conclusions. He settled against the railing again, looking down sheepishly. “Just… thinking.” Keith seemed to be waiting for an explanation, so Lance sighed, and asked quietly, “Is it weird to miss it? Even after everything that's happened?”

 

Keith just watched him for a moment before answering. “It's your home,” he pointed out. “I think it's normal to miss it, no matter what you've been through.”

  
  


“Do you miss your home?” Lance asked. Keith tensed at the question; Lance immediately backtracked. “I mean, you don't have to talk about--”

 

“I miss it every day,” Keith answered, staring at the water. Lance hesitated, unsure if he should say anything; Keith turned to look at him, his expression grim. “I was just a kid when merfolk attacked my village,” he explained. “They killed… everyone. Either with weapons or by dragging them into the sea. They found a torch and started burning the houses. My father went to fight them off. When he didn't come back, my mother told me to run. So I ran.” He gritted his teeth. “I looked back from the forest and saw my house burning. I was the only survivor.”

 

Lance was stunned into silence for a moment; tentatively, he laid a hand on Keith's arm, trying to comfort him. “I'm sorry,” he said.

 

Keith shrugged, though he didn't pull away from the touch. “It was a long time ago,” he muttered. “I met Shiro a few years later and we've been together ever since. He's my home now.” Lance stiffened at Shiro's name, and Keith glanced at him. “You're not a prisoner here anymore,” he said quietly. “You don't have to hold yourself back because of us. If you want to swim, go for it. No one here is going to hurt you anymore. This can be your home now, too, if you want it to be. Okay?”

 

Lance felt like his heart was caught in his throat. He swallowed, clasping his hands and staring down at them. “Okay,” he said finally.

 

Keith patted him on the shoulder, and though Lance tensed reflexively, he didn't pull away. “I'm gonna go get some rest. I think Shiro wanted to start teaching you to sword fight in the morning, if you're up for it.” Lance chewed on his lip uncertainly, and Keith hesitated. “Or--I could try to, but Shiro's a better teacher, or we could wait--”

 

“I have to get used to him at some point,” Lance said reluctantly. “And I have to learn how to fight on land in case we're attacked again.”

 

“You don't have to rush yourself,” Keith said firmly. “I can just tell Shiro you're not ready--”

 

“Can I have Coran be there to watch?” Lance interrupted, startling Keith; Lance's fins drooped guiltily. “Sorry, I just… I think I'd be more comfortable if it wasn't just me and Shiro. At least for now.”

 

Keith nodded, looking almost relieved. “That's understandable. I'm sure Coran and Shiro would both be okay with that.”

 

Lance smiled gratefully. “Thank you,” he said sincerely.

 

Keith returned the smile--faintly, but it was there. “No problem,” he replied. “Have a good night, Lance.” And with that, Keith left, and Lance was once again alone, staring out at the water with misplaced longing weighing heavy on his heart.


End file.
